


Closing Time

by LoverCrowley (ShadowScale)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley has a panic attack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowScale/pseuds/LoverCrowley
Summary: It's time to lock up the bookshop, and someone's fallen asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale glances up and startles himself by looking at the time. “Oh! My goodness…” He pushes himself to his feet and crosses the floor, moving from his desk to lock the door and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED.’ He sets about tidying up, realigning stacks of books and skimming his eyes over the shelves to make sure no customer had reshelved something in the wrong spot. They were pesky like that. 

Aziraphale turns a corner and jumps, quickly followed by an amused huff. A dark shape is curled in the window seat, limbs too long to really fit into the space but jammed in there nonetheless.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale says quietly. There is no response.

Aziraphale had seen Crowley wander off into the store earlier, after some conversation between them had died down, but he hadn’t imagined the demon had stayed. He must have been there most of the day.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale tries again, a bit louder this time, and accompanied by a light shaking of Crowley’s shoulder. “Wake up, dear boy.”

There’s the sound of a sharp inhale, a groan. “Hmm?” Crowley shifts, turning away from the window and onto his back.

“Really now,” Aziraphale tuts. “That position can’t be good for you, all cramped into a ball like that.”

“ ‘S not the best,” Crowley admits, pushing his glasses up into his hair and rubbing his eyes. “But the sunlight shines perfectly right here, keeps me warm.” 

Aziraphale says nothing, instead offering a hand and helping Crowley clamber into a sitting position. The demon checks his watch, then glances at Aziraphale with a raised eyebrow. “Four thirty already? That’s awfully late to be closing up,” Crowley comments. “Well, for you anyway.” 

“Yes well, I lost track of time.”

Crowley stands and yawns, arching his back and reaching up in a stretch. “So, any plans for the afternoon then?”

“Why, something you’d like to do?”

Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and pulls him toward the stairs. “Mm, yes I’d like to go back to bed.”

Aziraphale makes a noise of confusion, but follows along behind him anyway. “Wha- Haven’t you just slept? And for at least three or four hours I imagine?”

“Who said anything about more sleeping?” Crowley turns his head and winks, simultaneously pushing open the door to Aziraphale’s bedroom. He grins at the slightly panicked expression on his angel’s face and shakes his head with a laugh. “Relax. The window is on the other wall up here, so not much sun is coming in at this time.” He releases Aziraphale’s hand and throws himself at the bed, pleased with the mass of pillows and blankets that absorb his impact. He slips off his glasses and sets them on the side table before turning back to Aziraphale. “Well, come on then.”

Aziraphale is still standing near the door, an exasperated look on his face. “Really,” he murmurs to himself.

“Come oooooon, angel. Keep me warm for a while. Besides,” he grins again and pats the empty space beside him. “I know you love cuddling.”

The smile that tugs at Aziraphale’s mouth belies his eye roll and he relents, moving to rearrange the blankets so they are both covered.

Crowley happily sidles closer, hooking one leg over the angel and wrapping his arms around him. “Isn’t this nice?”

“It’s not even winter, Crowley, you can’t possibly be feeling so cold,” Aziraphale chides him, though he sounds content enough with the situation, even leaning back to press tighter against Crowley’s chest.

“You love it though,” Crowley insists, ducking his head to press his face against the back of Aziraphale’s neck, nose pressing to the skin that peeks up above Aziraphale’s shirt collar. Was that a new cologne? He smelled a bit sweeter than usual.

A shiver travelled through his body at the puff of breath against his neck, but Aziraphale smiled still. 

“I do,” he admits, taking Crowley’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 will feature Aziraphale falling asleep at closing time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets more serious, but there's still some sweet fluff at the end. Tags have been edited since the first chapter was posted, so please review them.

Crowley pulls the Bentley into his usual space (it’s never taken up by another car, thanks to a small demonic miracle), and strolls towards the entrance of the bookshop. He catches sight of movement through one of the windows and frowns, peering through it and finding he doesn’t recognize the figure. He glances down at his watch, then at the sign declaring the shop as ‘OPEN.’ That’s strange, Crowley thinks.

He steps inside, the welcome bell giving it’s customary ding, and surveys the shop. There appears to be not just one, but a handful of customers who are studying titles on the shelves as if they didn’t have something particular they wanted to buy, but might pick something up on a whim if it struck them so. Crowley recalls Aziraphale once referring to that sort of shopper as ‘the most dangerous sort’ because you never knew what they would go after. Collectors at least had a certain book in mind, and Aziraphale could steer them away by insisting he didn’t have whatever it was they were looking for.

Crowley looks about, finding it odd that Aziraphale is nowhere to be found. Surely he hadn’t left the shop without locking up? But if not, where was he? He would never normally allow the welcome bell to ring without coming to see who was there. It’s a little unsettling, but in any case Crowley could take care of this himself.

“Alright,” he says loudly, clapping his hands together once as an extra measure to get their attention. “So sorry to cut your shopping experience short,” he begins in a tone that suggest he is not sorry at all, “but the shop is now closed. No, no, I’m afraid there’s really no time for any transactions.” He waves off the young man who had held up a book with a hopeful expression. “Just set anything down on the table here and – no don’t reshelve them yourself please – do try again tomorrow if you’d like, hours are posted in the window. Yes, off you go…”

As the last of the intruders make their exit, Crowley clicks the lock into place and turns the sign to ‘CLOSED’ with a flick of his fingers.

Now that that was taken care of, there was the issue of finding the angel in question. 

Crowley suddenly is faced with the unsettling feeling that had brushed him earlier, and it felt heavier now, a weight lodged between his ribs.

“Aziraphale?” he calls. He turns down a hallway and sticks his head into the first room. It’s just storage: boxes upon boxes of dusty papers, probably records of the shop from the last couple hundred years. No Aziraphale. Crowley’s chest squeezes a little tighter. The second room was a small kitchen, also missing any sign of the angel’s presence. There is a final room at the end of the hall, one that Crowley knows Aziraphale uses as an office when he doesn’t feel like working at the desk in the main room. He gives a sharp knock and pushes the door open.

“There you are,” Crowley breathes out, immediately upon seeing the angel. “…Aziraphale?” 

Panic starts to bubble up again as he looks at him, his head down on the desk, one arm half-hanging over the edge, limp.

A hundred scenarios reel through Crowley’s mind. Heaven had gotten to him. Or Hell had gotten to him. Or something human had gotten to him, and the body laying on the desk was just that, an empty body. Aziraphale could be discorporated, sitting in Heaven right then suffering at the hands of someone awful by some vile tortuous means and there was nothing Crowley could do. Nothing but stand here in the bookshop. It was just like before, different but the same. No flames licked at him and no smoke saturated his lungs, but they might as well have been there, for all the hurt Crowley felt edging in on him.

 _Relax! Look again!_ The voice in Crowley’s head urges him, kicking him out of his own head and back into reality.

Crowley looks. He sees the even rise and fall of Aziraphale’s form, and the neutral if not at-ease expression on his face. He processes this at last.

“Oh,” Crowley huffs, leaning back against the wall, eyes drifting upward in a ‘thank you’ he wouldn’t dare say aloud. “Oh, he’s alright, he’s just… sleeping. Just sleeping.”

Crowley isn’t sure if he stands there a minute or twenty, but it’s however long it takes for the tension to mostly subside, for the panic gripping his chest to loosen its hold.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, moving to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a light shake. “Come on, wake up.”

Aziraphale stirs then suddenly sits upright, blinking owlishly and looking disoriented. “Crowley? When did you get here- What time is it?!” His eyes dart to the clock mounted on the wall and his mouth shapes into a perfect ‘o’ before he jumps to his feet.

“Easy there, angel, I’ve already locked up for you.” Crowley gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Although I can’t guarantee there were no shenanigans before I got here.” Crowley takes a step back and studies him. One cheek is reddened from laying on it, and there’s a slight crease where something – probably his sleeve – has pressed an imprint into his skin. “Since when do you sleep, anyway?”

Aziraphale frowns. “Well, since today I suppose. I felt a bit tired, and I meant to just rest my eyes for a moment…” His eyes drift to Crowley’s hand which still rests on his shoulder, and Crowley removes it. Aziraphale looks into Crowley’s eyes, or at least into his sunglasses and frowns harder. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Crowley echoes.

“You’re sweating. And- and a bit pale really. You aren’t feeling unwell?”

“No,” Crowley replies too quickly, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “No, no. I’m fine. Do you want some tea? Or cocoa maybe?” He nods and steps toward the door. “I’ll make you some cocoa, that might keep you awake.”

Aziraphale waits a beat before following him.

The angel leans against the door frame of the kitchen and watches Crowley for a minute. He asks quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Crowley freezes, his hand halfway to the cabinet handle. He is silent a moment, then, “About what?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked. You really don’t seem to be yourself today.”

Crowley swallowed hard, then shook his head. “Dunno what you mean.” He forces a smile and turns to flash it at the angel. “I’m the same as always.”

Aziraphale’s face says he’s not convinced, but he decides not to push the issue just then. “Well, alright. I’ll just er, meet you out there then, okay?”

“Alright.” The smile slides off his face and Crowley turns back to his task, listening to Aziraphale’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. He opens the cabinet and a subtle, genuine smile appears upon seeing a mug with white wings making up the handle. He’s a little touched that Aziraphale actually uses his gift, even if Crowley had half bought it for him as a joke. 

“Here you are,” Crowley says, carefully handing Aziraphale the mug after meeting him back in the shop. He settles on the opposite end of the couch. Aziraphale observes that he doesn’t spread out as he usually does, instead he holds himself all a bit tighter together, knees pulled toward his chest, fidgeting.

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale says, and blows gently to cool the drink. A few seconds later he sets the mug aside and waits. He knows that, as calm and collected as Crowley likes to appear, he won’t bottle up something serious for too long.

After some time, Crowley makes a small, desperate noise. He slouches forward, elbows resting against his knees, hands going up into his hair. His sunglasses slip and clatter against the wooden floor. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he chokes out.

Aziraphale is by his side at once, wrapping an arm around the demon’s shoulders. “I’m here.”

A sob breaks loose, startling Azriaphale, and Crowley turns, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re here, yes. You’re still here.” His hands clutch at Aziraphale’s back. “I got so scared. S-so scared, Aziraphale. I-” His voice breaks and he buries his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“When I couldn’t find you in the shop at first, I thought you were _gone_. I thought someone _got_ you. And. And when I did find you I couldn’t shake that thought still. The idea that something should happen to you. _Again_.” Another sob wracks his body. “Angel, oh angel, I’m sorry to be a mess like this, I really am I just-”

“Don’t be sorry,” Aziraphale interjects. “You’ve been through more than anyone should be allowed to.” 

“The thought is always there in the back of my mind. That our sides will come after us again. Is that silly? Do you ever think about it?”

“It’s not silly, my love. I think about it too.” He leans back so he can look Crowley in the face, wiping the tears from his golden eyes. “I think about it too.”

“And does it scare you?” Crowley’s lower lip trembles. 

“Horribly so.” Aziraphale takes one of Crowley’s hands, rubbing gently with his thumb. “It terrifies me. But I also think we’d manage to get our way again. After 6000 years and the avoidance of Armageddon, I have a hard time believing we aren’t meant to be together forever.” He goes quiet. They’d discussed the bookshop fire before. It was sometime after the Ritz. After the glee of having averted the apocalypse and having evaded certain destruction had dwindled, other emotions were allowed to seep in. Less pleasant emotions. They came crawling in with memories. Aziraphale had comforted Crowley then too, and Crowley was grateful for it. He was always grateful for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale for him in kind.

Aziraphale goes on, “I’m sorry, still. That you’ve had so much pain on my account.” He raises Crowley’s hand to his lips, presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d take it from you if I could.”

“I wouldn’t allow that, angel.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But let me help you, at the very least. Know that you can talk to me.”

“I know.” He leans forward and sets his forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder again and sighs, wrapping his arms around him again. “I know.”

They stay like that until the tremors subside. Until Crowley’s breath comes in even huffs. Until the tears stop flowing and dry in their tracks.

They untangle from each other eventually. The cocoa has cooled but it’s still deliciously sweet and thick. They share it, giggling at the milk mustaches it leaves. It gets dark in the shop as the sun dips down below the horizon and its rays can no longer reach through the windows. Crowley and Aziraphale sit in comfortable silence, leaning against one another.

“You can sleep, you know,” Crowley says, after a few minutes of watching Aziraphale’s head dip and jerk back up.

“Oh I- I couldn’t. I’m not that tired, and I want to be here with you, anyhow.”

“You’ll still be here with me, you’ll just be asleep. Come on, it would make me feel better for you to be rested. Here, we can-” Crowley maneuvers so he’s laying along the length of the couch, Aziraphale tucked between his legs and lying back against him. He brings one hand up to rest it against Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale lets himself relax into the position, finding it surprisingly cozy even considering all the sharp angles of Crowley’s body. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not in the slightest. Go to sleep.” This kind of weight against his chest is one that Crowley prefers. 

A few minutes later, the demon speaks up. “It’s probably because you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“What?”

“Why you’re so tired. Obviously you don’t _need_ to eat really, but your body got used to it, so if you haven’t eaten much you’ll be tired. Wanting to sleep instead.”

“Oh. I suppose it has been a while since I had a proper meal,” Aziraphale muses.

“Hm.” Crowley slides his hand from Aziraphale’s chest down to his belly. “I’ll take you out tomorrow then. Anywhere you want.”

Aziraphale beams. “Anywhere? You spoil me, Crowley.”

“I do,” Crowley admits, tipping his head down to press a kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head. “It’s because I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering writing a bonus chapter of fluff because I really didn't plan on making this hurt/comfort until I started actually writing it. We'll see how it goes. In any case, I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
